Hey, minions are a critical component of many boss fights! And, if you're lucky, they'll give extra loot drops when you manage to take them all out.LADY YOU AREN'T FOLLOWING THE RULES OF A BOSSFIGHT!
The regulations are quite clear, all boss fights are to be 1-on-1 fights without help from NPCs, who exist solely to give excited commentary from the sidelines to help the audience understand just how awesome you are for doing what you do.
Yes, I know that their quite limited lifespan makes the monks more akin to a special move than any actual outside help, but you still violate both the spirit and the letter of the law!
I appreciate that it's not enough for Ayano to have her disciples all launch suicide attacks to keep Jiro off-balance, she also literally grinds them underfoot herself.A monk lies before you, keeping himself up on his hands and knees with the last of his strength. Another stands beside him, back bent by the weight of the agony his burning body is enduring, but he does not fall. Two stepping-stones for Ayano to rise like a leaping cat, soaring gracefully up and over you.
Also holy hell I don't know how you keep topping it but Ayano is just such a fucking unrepentant monster.
Like, this isn't even zeal anymore, fucking Peleps Deled would shirk at this kind of pointless spilling of blood. He'd fucking bitchslap her for her cowardice in expecting mortals to suicide rush a burning wall when she was right there and could just fucking kill the Anathema herself as is her duty and privilege. Instead, she does it out of some belief that suffering and dying has some innate virtue as long as you do it on her behalf, because she is innately righteous--and she's got them so brainwashed that they leap at the opportunity even as they establish it to be pointless
Like, I don't know if the intent was for the Tamura clan to just be this enclave of disgusting monsters who live down the ultimate worst stereotypes of Dynast society (Which to be fair is still a shitty and dehumanizing thing but at least experiences enough shame to limit their excesses and are still human underneath the late-stage imperial decadence), but you sure seem to be nailing it right proper. Jiro's whipping out that strong Shonen Protagonist Energy too and finding her shitty fracture lines and hitting them with the fury of a hundred suns.
Imagine if we did. So many chapters of character development, Jiro working to untwist himself, to be able to trust people and follow the path of the open hand. Patching up the relationships he's shattered. Until, in his hour of greatest need, when a lightning spewing badass is kicking his ass so fast she can punch him four times simultaneously, a person he's hurt decides to enter the arena and lend their aid - because while poor Jiro has a personality like a bucket of broken glass, he's trying to fix himself and the world, dammit!
but if we do that, we might end up becoming a furry thoImagine if we did. So many chapters of character development, Jiro working to untwist himself, to be able to trust people and follow the path of the open hand. Patching up the relationships he's shattered. Until, in his hour of greatest need, when a lightning spewing badass is kicking his ass so fast she can punch him four times simultaneously, a person he's hurt decides to enter the arena and lend their aid - because while poor Jiro has a personality like a bucket of broken glass, he's trying to fix himself and the world, dammit!
Only for our poor fox-enby to hear, "Nah, I'd rather continue to get my ass kicked instead of accepting your help."
It would be hilarious. Unreasonable, painful, but - from a story-structure perspective - hilarious.
Man, Jiro is a natural at pissing people off. Or is it some TED charm?
Nah, he got Shuzen incredibly pissed off while beating his son/grandson to death in front of a crowd. It's all natural, and god help us all if he figures out how to shit-talk with magic. As a side-note, that would be a magnificent ebon dragon charm. Piss people off so much they can't fight properly.
I like this, because looking back it wasn't much of a choice. Jiro could either totally ignore what he said to Daji or he could wriggle out of it but both of those are betrayals of what he claimed he wanted, and this was really the only way to go for Jiro as he was when he spoke with Daji through the door. It's a massive, massive step forward for him and I'm super proud of him even if it's going to make it more difficult for him, personally.You wish you could ignore this feeling, this thinnest sliver of doubt you're granting the Abbess, settle for the quiet comfort of knowing she needs to die and get to work. But you can't.
You told Daji you didn't want to be that kind of animal any more.
And this is another bit I love, because it's something I didn't even consider. In letting the monks guide him up without fighting, he's making sure that Qiangong is fighting less, and in confronting Yanxiu he's ensured that it's gone from a 3 v 1 to a matched 2 v 2. Jiro's dedication to being better and to not being this avatar of vengeance and death that's no better than an animal isn't just good for him but it's also making things better all around, and it's just nice to see that sort of thing rewarded by the narrative instead of Jiro getting punked with absolutely no recourse for trying to be good. Choosing to be better is important and rewarding and it's really nice to see that recognised here.If you can find comfort in one point of practicality, this'll probably get you where you need to go quicker than having to fight your way through all the monks. Maybe it won't take more time than he can buy you.
Well, we all knew that was coming. I like that like, Ayano doesn't even try to parley, doesn't try to talk, doesn't engage with Jiro at all. It was always a trap, nothing more than that, a way for her to get Jiro in a big pileup of her monks and avoid him having the slightest chance at anything else. Jiro, the Anathema from Hell who fused with a demon to wreak bloody vengeance against the Tamura, was the one who was willing to talk and try figure it out without more bloodshed, while Ayano, the abbess, the most holy person in Sekigahara, is the one who used the opportunity to stab him in the back. It really does go to show what sort of horrible effect Shuzen's had on her, how much it's twisted her and made her so brutal."To give you one more chance," the Abbess replies candidly. "An opportunity to sacrifice yourself for the good of the city, and secure a more virtuous life after this."
You hear the doors slam shut behind you. You whirl around and you honestly can't even begin to be surprised by what you see - the mob of monks all moving to block the door, assuming battle stances, and advancing on you.
Just pointing this out because I fucking love Jiro's "1 v 1 me nerd" ability, it's fantastic.It's the monks who take it. The monks who get swept off your body by the flames, scooped up as if by a great hand and flung bodily to the far edges of the hall. Some of the more zealous ones try to resist the pressure, setting their palms against the screen of intangible force that follows the flames and digging in their heels, but there's nothing to be done. The ring just keeps expanding, stoking the flames higher as you rise with them, an ember burning on your brow. When it finally stops the ring of verdant, toxic flame encompasses almost the entire training hall, pillars and all. A new arena for you and your long-awaited revenge. You almost imagine you can hear the crowd - not the monks grunting and straining and beating the wall with their staves, but a cavalcade of bloodthirsty demons, whooping and cheering for their Green Sun Prince.
Aaaaaand jeez that's creepy. I like that you balanced it out so that like, this doesn't read as some lowbro "hurr religion bad" thing which it might have ended up being, but it's like...well, Ten put it best, the monks through their faith and flesh are overcoming the stolen powers of hell and working to bring down an unholy beast. It's not that they're brainwashed or stupid or mind controlled, and it's not like Ayano doesn't believe what she's saying. All in all I just like how evocative this whole thing is of the people so devoted to their faith they're willing to literally push through the fires of hell to fight a demon plaguing their land, even if I'm rooting hard for that demon.The monks are forcing their way in. The once-harmless flames are turning very much real as they determinedly force their limbs across the threshold, flesh blackening and peeling before your very eyes as they thrust their hands into the proverbial firepit. Not just alone but aided by their fellows, squeezing through what few gaps and cracks they can make in the barrier. You see the first one to manage to get his head through. You see the skin bubble and blister, the last hair he has left burning off his eyebrows, the scent of his flesh cooking like game over a firepit flooding the hall and yet he doesn't even cry out.
Jiro actually secretly has invested in his social charms, it's just that every single one is a permutation of how to piss people off, building on his natural talent for it.And in a flash, you remember how well her uncle responded to taunts.
oh no ayano has doppelganger for her devil triggerAyano starts... jittering. Lightning flickering across her body as she rolls her shoulders and shrugs her rumpled, frayed robe off her body. She wears a sleeveless tunic and trousers underneath, her feet bound in grey cloth, and though this layer is significantly more flattering to her painstakingly well-developed musculature it's not like you needed an extra reminder about how hard she can kick your ass. That's not the point. The point is when she starts moving. Back and forth, just a little at a time. More and more with each pass, jerking left and right. blinking between two places without so much as a sidestep until something in the empty air between the two afterimages seems to catch light and lightning strikes sideways with an earsplitting thunderclap. Two identical Ayanos take their fighting stances, their blurred outlines hissing and spitting with lightning.
Daji: GOD, DAD, HAVEN'T YOU EVER WATCHED BLEACH<No there aren't! It's still just her! It's a speed-clone!>
"A sp- what the fuck is a speed-clone!?"
<Now is not the time to get us killed being difficult!>
/me whispering in zerban's earThe path is thin and treacherous, the many perfectly even steps cut into the rock face and the pure white torii spaced out at regular intervals
Yeah that was always gonna be how it went, but we had to make the offer. It says something though that, yeah, she doesn't even try to dress it up."So," you say icily. "What d'you want?"
"To give you one more chance," the Abbess replies candidly. "An opportunity to sacrifice yourself for the good of the city, and secure a more virtuous life after this."
You hear the doors slam shut behind you. You whirl around and you honestly can't even begin to be surprised by what you see - the mob of monks all moving to block the door, assuming battle stances, and advancing on you.
Ooooh hey, I remember when I pointed Zerban at this sort of Charmtech. Revlid's old King of the Ring tree, rock.You don't need to get up. You just need to free one arm. It's the brass one you manage to wrench free of the many grasping hands and restraining bodies, the squirming weight bearing you down into the mats. You swing it wide overhead, Ayano just barely out of reach, and slap your palm down on the floor. There's no delay, no time for her to react but to leap back and shield herself with the oar. Nothing they can do but watch as the ring of green flame erupts from beneath your hand and spreads outward, rising and rising as it goes until it becomes a genuine wall. Ayano swings the oar as if to disperse the emerald inferno as it rushes toward her, a gale-force gust of wind washing over you, but it passes her by harmlessly. Even she seems shocked, her free hand flying to her chest to check herself for wounds.
It's the monks who take it. The monks who get swept off your body by the flames, scooped up as if by a great hand and flung bodily to the far edges of the hall. Some of the more zealous ones try to resist the pressure, setting their palms against the screen of intangible force that follows the flames and digging in their heels, but there's nothing to be done. The ring just keeps expanding, stoking the flames higher as you rise with them, an ember burning on your brow. When it finally stops the ring of verdant, toxic flame encompasses almost the entire training hall, pillars and all. A new arena for you and your long-awaited revenge. You almost imagine you can hear the crowd - not the monks grunting and straining and beating the wall with their staves, but a cavalcade of bloodthirsty demons, whooping and cheering for their Green Sun Prince.
"What did you just do, demon?" Ayano demands, shifting back a step and taking a combat stance with the oar. "How have you sullied this place?"
"Keep your robes on you insufferable shit-stirrer," you shoot back, taking your time to draw your sword. "It'll go away once I'm done with you. But you better tell your boys and girls out there to stop trying to jump the fence, or they won't like what happens next."
oookay that's uh, that's new. I know there's dialogue later about how they do this because they're just that devoted but like, I don't quite buy that this is all natural. This feels more like zombie puppeteering or something. I'm not sure if that's more or less spooky than the kind of sheer devotion for the whole crowd to do this.The monks are forcing their way in. The once-harmless flames are turning very much real as they determinedly force their limbs across the threshold, flesh blackening and peeling before your very eyes as they thrust their hands into the proverbial firepit. Not just alone but aided by their fellows, squeezing through what few gaps and cracks they can make in the barrier. You see the first one to manage to get his head through. You see the skin bubble and blister, the last hair he has left burning off his eyebrows, the scent of his flesh cooking like game over a firepit flooding the hall and yet he doesn't even cry out.
Interesting. So, yes, they do know what he is, and not everybody is on board with it, but something forced it through. Shuzen? What to make of that..."Oh I got plenty I wanna say to you, asshole," you pant, sparing only a half-second glance at the burning barrier - still more, fuck why are there still more? "But I thought your baby brother wasn't dead. Didn't Daddy say something about him making a full recovery? Last I heard he ran off with Big Bro to go play soldiers in the interior."
And there's a hairline crack. A beat too long before Ayano replies. "The wretched beast that replaced him is no different from you. I will see it dead before the year is out, and you along with it."
And the wages of self-improvement are the cavalry arriving in the nick of time. Kind of expected, but no less gratifying for it. Lovely<I can read her moves!>
"D-Daji? The fuck're you doing here!?" you blurt out, staring bug-eyed at the empty air.
<Shut up and let me talk! I said I can read her moves!>
"Which one!? There's two of these motherfuckers!" And as if on cue the identical Dragonbloods on a mission go tearing off toward the pillars, racing up the sheer vertical surfaces almost as easily as you would.
<No there aren't! It's still just her! It's a speed-clone!>
"A sp- what the fuck is a speed-clone!?"
<Now is not the time to get us killed being difficult!>
The Ayanos kick off the pillars, hurtling towards you like arrows in flight, and you flip gravity again. You look up as you plummet, hoping faintly that the two of them will just slam into each other. Instead they just neatly somersault in mid-air, kicking off the ceiling to pursue as swift as lightning. You barely have time to get your feet under you and lift your sword before their heels come crashing down on the flat, unleashed lightning spilling over the edges like white-hot thorns as the stink of a storm fills your nose.
"Just tell me how to beat them!" You shout at the empty air, and you'd swear the Ayanos even pause to smirk at your madness before they kick off your sword and land right back where you all started.
<I can't just coach you! I think there's something I can do but it's->
"It's what!?" You lift your sword into a guard position for all the good it'll do you.
<You'll just have to trust me!>
Everything seems to slow down. You'd swear you can count the beats of your heart as they happen. Feel the long, pained rattle of your breath through bruised lungs. See every minute shift in the Ayano twins, identical in every way, as they shift their weight forward and go on the attack again.
<Please.>
The two monks at the end of the rows step away and open the doors for you, finally giving your growing entourage some shelter from the storm. You stomp up the steps and head inside, water rolling down your armour and pooling underfoot with every step. Inside it doesn't look too different from the prison-fort you attacked back when you first returned to Creation - the Immaculate Order don't worship gods or idols after all, what have they got to hang up around the place? - and the choice of paths either forward or upward briefly stymie you. The monks pick up the slack, hurrying ahead to push open yet another grand set of doors to allow you into what you have to assume is the main training or exercise hall.
And they swarm you like flies. Not so much attacking you as descending on you. Weighing you down with their bodies, restraining your arms, forcing your legs to bend, forcing you to kneel. You writhe and struggle, stinging pain blossoming wherever one of them punches or kicks a particularly key muscle group of cluster of nerves to make you more pliant, to undermine your efforts to throw them off. And you try, and you even do well, hurling them away one by one with broken bones and torn muscles and ruined ligaments until you've ejected at least half a dozen from the pile. But it's not enough. It's not any one monk. It's their collective weight. And the one time you think you can rise and escape, torrent of water like a blacksmith's hammer falls on the anvil of your spine and sends you lurching to the ground.
It's very uh-Aaaaaand jeez that's creepy. I like that you balanced it out so that like, this doesn't read as some lowbro "hurr religion bad" thing which it might have ended up being, but it's like...well, Ten put it best, the monks through their faith and flesh are overcoming the stolen powers of hell and working to bring down an unholy beast. It's not that they're brainwashed or stupid or mind controlled, and it's not like Ayano doesn't believe what she's saying. All in all I just like how evocative this whole thing is of the people so devoted to their faith they're willing to literally push through the fires of hell to fight a demon plaguing their land, even if I'm rooting hard for that demon.
You think about the past few days. Everything you've seen and said and done. You think of Yanxiu and Qiangong the most. You let out a long, resigned sigh because you know what your answer is. What it has to be. You incline your head toward the mountain path and the monks turn, falling in line so perfectly it's like they drilled for exactly this moment. You wish you could ignore this feeling, this thinnest sliver of doubt you're granting the Abbess, settle for the quiet comfort of knowing she needs to die and get to work. But you can't.
You told Daji you didn't want to be that kind of animal any more.
"To give you one more chance," the Abbess replies candidly. "An opportunity to sacrifice yourself for the good of the city, and secure a more virtuous life after this."
She stops dead just before you, her shadow falling across your kneeling body. Blue-white light dances across her face, revealing her cold glare in fits and starts.
"The Order is patient. Generous. And eternal."
Neither will Ayano. Another narrow miss, thin edge of the oar brushing across your brow like a knife blade. You jerk awkwardly aside but Ayano's quicker. She cuts you off, keeps you from turning things around so the monks are at her back. You think you hear the guy who punched you in the spine slowly crumple, life finally spent, but there's more where he came from. A blistering foot of half-rendered fats drives into the back of your knee and you drop with a grunt of pain, muscles seizing. Ayano capitalises, too fast to react. CRACK, the oar strikes your temple and you see stars. Her knee rises so fast the air hisses like a snake and you barely bring your hand up in time, taking the impact on your emerald palm, but the respite is short-lived. A brisk twist of the oar and a jet of water curves under her raised foot, catching you full on the chest. You go flying, rolling head-over-heels until your talons catch in the bamboo strands and you claw your way to a standstill. The man who kicked you lies dead and burning where you once were but there's more to replace him, always more, and Ayano's already pursuing.
You straighten up and turn to face Ayano, casting your mind back for some other hint, some fresh angle of attack. Remembering how Sho forgot even his own fear and cowardice once you brought up the wrong man.
"It's okay, I get it," you say. "My dad thought I was a liability too. But man, how must that feel? Knowing that he had every chance to step in and help you, and still left you to clean up your own mess."
In that moment you can even hear her breathing, laboured and ragged. You can practically hear the wood creak where she's gripping the oar white-knuckle tight.
"Maybe he's hoping I'll kill you."
<No there aren't! It's still just her! It's a speed-clone!>
"A sp- what the fuck is a speed-clone!?"
What is this?